Hello, my names Jessica and I’m an addict. I’m 19 years old and struggling with PTSD and bipolar disorder, as well as the urge not to use any drugs. Me, 7 months ago: There isn’t a certain drug I’d consider

My name is Wilson Shantae and I am a Sex Trafficking Survivor. My journey started at the age of 14. My mother was addicted to heroin and sold me to the neighborhood drug dealer, who at that time was my

We met at a high school football game. We were both seniors, but going to different schools. He was 6’7″, easily over 220 lbs, very muscular, extremely handsome and very good at charming people. He went to my best friend’s

The last time I slept with him voluntarily, less than coherent, outside on a picnic table after 5 years of abuse, he came inside of me. I asked him why. He spit on me and said “I HOPE you get pregnant, bitch. And walked away.

About 3 weeks later I found out I was pregnant, he was going to buy me an illegal abortion pill online. I decided that was not safe and went to my parents and told them what had happened (my friend asked me to keep her and her boyfriend out of it, considering they were there that night) so I did as instructed and told the police I didn’t know the attacker, which was a dumb mistake. I finally came out and told the truth. Anyways, she told them it never happened and they believe her since I lied about not knowing him.

My name is Julia, I was raped at the age of 14. I found out I was pregnant on the day I lost the baby at 14.
I studied Psychology, went to therapy and nothing seemed to help. Until I realized that this one is on me. So I fought and today, I am happier than I've ever been.

I dont like the label 'survivor of domestic abuse'. I dont think that just because i didnt die that i survived at all. Parts of me that once were great are now gone. The person that i was no longer exists. The person i could of been will never exist. They say that you wouldnt be who you are today without the things that happen to you, good or bad. The saddest part of that is that i agree, i just know im not the person i was supposed to be anymore.

I don’t even know where to begin…where does one start to tell the details of the night that changed everything. The night that made me question everything I had ever thought about people, about the world, about myself. The night

Even as I'm typing this, I'm terrified that I'm lying, that what happened was consensual. Because I fucking said yes. But you know what? Yes doesn't always mean yes. A mentally unstable, near-suicidal, Autistic sixteen year old girl cannot consent to sex with a mentally stable nineteen year old boy. Hell, that girl can't consent to sex with anyone. But it wasn't her fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault.

I spent a good hour just standing there, not thinking about a damn thing. I remember checking myself. I felt myself down there, and I felt wrong. I was disgusted in myself. How could I let him do that to me?

I was closest to my Grandmother. We didn’t talk much, but I never felt the need to always talk with her. I was comfortable with her, and thinking back now I think she was the only person I was truly comfortable with. I trusted her. It was my Grandmother who realized something else was going on. I was pregnant. I may, or may not have fallen down the stairs, but one thing is for sure. I was raped. We didn’t discuss it.

The When You're Ready Project is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories and have their voices heard, finding strength in one another. When you're ready to share your story, we will be here.